Cycle
by AlloraSilverfield
Summary: Join Cinder as she is thrown into a world she barely knows by an unforseeable tragedy. Follow her as she discovers her past, and realizes her destiny.


This is a new story idea that just hit me. Very confusing I know, but I hope interesting. Things will make sense as more chapters get posted! If you have not yet, PLEASE READ ALLORA SILVERFIELD FIRST. That story will help you to understand the way I write about the pokemon world if you are confused. For my current fans, don't worry, I am still working on Allora!

* * *

It was quiet. Not silent, for that would imply the absence of all noise. No, there was still sound. The distant roar of the marching flames as they moved farther and farther from the scorched orphanage could still be heard. The occasional crack of some piece of timber or slate succumbing to gravity and the whittling of the flames could still be heard. The sizzle and pop of tree sap as it continued to simmer throughout the small town could still be heard.

But the quiet that was not silent was still quiet. The screams and moans of the people had recently disappeared, and could not still be heard.

The girl lay beneath a blanket of ashes, waking up from her nap. She knew the ashes should have melted holes in her dark skin; knew they should have made her burn and writhe and scream like the others but she did not. She lay there, feeling pleasantly warm and calm under the cloak of ashes, and not asking why but thanking. A cooling sensation sprouting from her left hand was cloaking her. This she knew, for she could feel the chill had its epicenter there. On the Spot. The scalding heat of the still simmering ashes could not touch her through it, and she was thanking.

Her mind flashed back to a time where she was not alone. Outside with the other children they had made a fire from a small box and some twigs, and put small white things on the ends of sticks (_marshmallows taste good_) to put over the fire and get brown. They were sweet, and only two were given to each of the children.

The girl's second small marshmallow dripped off of the stick into the center of the fire. The first one had been good, and not wanting to lose it, she simply reached into the fire and picked up the now blackened glob. She popped it in her mouth.

The ladies who were there (_nuns strict_) immediately had the blue mouse with the ball tail put out the fire, and they held the girl's hand under the stream of water. They asked her if it hurt. Why she did it. What happened. She explained (_marshmallow fall, marshmallow good.)_ They asked more questions.

Why isn't her hand red.

Where did the circle come from.

Why is it on her hand.

Why doesn't she cry.

Why doesn't she scream.

She's a freak.

A freak.

FREAK.

FREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFRE AKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKF REAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREA KFREAK**FREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFRE AKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKFREAKF REAKFREAKFREAK**

She told the memory to go away, and it did, and she enjoyed the warm comfort in the ashes as she continued to wake up slowly. She listened to the increasing quiet around her, breathing in the comforting ashes as she woke her mind. The disappearance of the moans and screams had alerted her to awaken, and it was almost time to move.

Before she moved however, she noticed the sound of footsteps. She felt a wave of Bad. So she remained still (_nuns mean_) and breathed quieter. She heard noises.

"Just keep an eye out, we're the last sweep anyway," came one voice.

"What we doin' this fo' anyway? We stole enough o' dem pokemons before the fire got out o' control," came another.

"Don't ask questions nitwit. Now come on, there might be a few left, and the boss won't be pleased if we don't meet our quota."

"Whateva' you don' even know why we here either do ya?" The voice was close to the girl, and she held her breath.

There was some shuffling, sighing, huffing, complaining, crunching, moving, grunting, then they were gone. She waited until the noises had faded, and sat up from the ashes.

She was covered in black soot, which darkened her dark skin more than before. Her clothes were gone, burnt to ashes. She immediately covered her chest with her arms (naked bad), her lower body still cloaked in ash. But, realizing there was nobody around, she stood and began walking. Her purpose of the moment: to get clothes.

There were no more walls on the inside of the building, and the outside walls were broken and scorched. Several of them were completely gone, and there was no difference between the ones that had completely burned up and the outside world. All of the ground was scorched. Small fires burned in the remaining patches of foliage, and it smelled of soot and charred things.

A room that used to be a bedroom held small prizes for the girl. A boy was sleeping face down on the dirt. She nudged him with her foot and asked for his jacket, but he did not respond. She could still feel the Good, but it did not flow, which was odd. She wondered how he could be sleeping at this time, but she was more concerned with becoming clothed. She always slept in her panties, so she knew he wouldn't be upset if she used his clothes. She began to slide the jacket off of his arms, careful not to wake him.

She noticed the swelling puddle of redness around his head. She noted the crispy smelliness in his hair. But this she did not understand. But she understood clothes. She pulled the jacket on, zipped it up partway, and rolled up the sleeves.

She also took the gloves, and covered up her Spot.

She also found a small chest under what used to be the bed. The mattress and frame of the bed had protected it from the flames, and so she scooted it out and opened it.

There was a pair of pants, and this she quickly put on (_no panties, boys underwear_.) She found a backpack, which she knew could carry things without needing hands. This she also took. And a hat; a red baseball cap, which she tucked her hair into.

Her stomach rumbled, and she was hungry. It was indiscernible where the kitchen might be, but she knew there was a store in town with food, so she made her way through the wreckage.

Many buildings that were in the town were simply gone. Fires burned still in others, consuming the remaining framework of houses and shops. The girl walked in the general direction of where the mart had been.

Small purple mice were flocking around the mart. Or where the mart used to be. The girl knew being last in line was bad. She ran, and shooed away the purple mice, and glared at the big brown rat until it backed away.

The remaining food was slim, and so she took everything left. She unzipped her backpack and pushed whatever was already in to the side so she could fit in the small cans of soup and the only box of wheat thins that wasn't chewed through. She noted the bottle of water that was only half full in the bag. She zipped it up.

Slowly she realized that she had to leave. The earth here was dead, she felt it in her mind. The Good that had been was still, it did not flow. The Bad had taken over; even the mice felt of the it. Even the (_nuns mean_) ladies who had taken care of her had felt of Good. But their Good was still. Frozen.

She stood from the rubble of the mart, brushed the soot off her pants, and walked towards the forest, where she felt a small Good. A Good that was losing its flow, unlike the boy's Good, which was stagnant. But this Good still moved. So she walked.


End file.
